


All I Do Is Dream of You

by Justagaybean



Category: Haikyuu!!, Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Genre: Acting, Actors, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Actors, Based on a Musical, Based on: Singin’ in the Rain, Beta Read, Daichi as Don Lockwood, Dancing and Singing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I’m a Debbie Reynolds Lover, Kuroo as Cosmo Brown, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Singing, Singin’ in the Rain, Singin’ in the Rain AU, Suga as Kathy Selden, blink and you’ll miss it:, iwaoi - Freeform, kiyoyachi - Freeform, ukatake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justagaybean/pseuds/Justagaybean
Summary: Daichi Sawamura is a silent film actor in 1927, starring in several pictures alongside Yui Michimiya. Unfortunately for him, the studio he works at links them together romantically for publicity. Yui is constantly underestimated because she is a beautiful woman with a sharp, grating voice, and unfortunately, she thinks they’re in love.Daichi has humble roots as a hoofer and a stuntman, but no one but he and his best friend, Kuroo, knows of how he clawed his way to the top. He’s got it all—fame, glory, everything. But when Koushi Sugawara jumps into his life, or when Daichi jumped into his—all the walls he’s built up come tumbling down. Daichi realizes that he doesn’t have to hide it his past anymore. But when Daichi offends him severely, he desperately tries to mend ties with the man he seems to have fallen for.While all of this is happening, the industry is reeling from the introduction of films with sound. Daichi and the rest of the studio need to adjust to the new innovations, but Yui’s voice proves to be a problem when her voice catches audiences off guard. Daichi needs Suga’s help.It doesn’t help that Suga hates him.A Singin’ in the Rain Daisuga AU.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 16





	1. The Price of Fame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It’s here. This fic is my hellfic—I’ve wanted to write it for months and I’ve been drafting it for a while now. And now it’s here!
> 
> Singin’ in the Rain is one of my favorite movies, I’ve loved it ever since I was really little, when my mother first showed it to me. I’ve rewatched it a thousand times, and one day I was just like: why don’t I make a Daisuga fic based on it?
> 
> I’ve got four chapters planned out—maybe one or two more, but it’s four for now—and I’m super excited to share it with you all.
> 
> Enjoy!

“This is Hitoka Yachi, speaking to you from the front of Hollywood’s famous Grauman's Chinese Theatre!” A short blonde woman called excitedly into a microphone. She wore a flowered purple dress and a thick fur overcoat, and she stood in the middle of a red carpet leading to the elegant doors of the theater. On either side of the carpet, the crowds pressed forward into a long line of security guards, all clamoring to get a glimpse of the carpet. Cameras flashed and spotlights shone, and passing cars honked at the crowds of people lining the theater. 

Hitoka flashed a smile at the nearest camera, then continued. “Every star in Hollywood is here for Monumental Pictures’ premiere of their latest picture, _The Royal Rascal._ Starring Daichi Sawamura and Yui Michimiya, this picture is sure to be one of the highlights of 1927!”

At the other end of a carpet, a sleek, elegant, black Rolls-Royce Phantom with silver-plated accents pulled up, and immediately, the crowds began to scream, pressing up against the lines of police that closed off either side of the carpet. The doors opened, and out popped a tall, brunette man, closely followed by a dark-haired man, both dressed elegantly in pressed black tuxedos. 

“Look who it is! Tooru Oikawa accompanied by his longtime friend and fellow actor, Hajime Iwaizumi!” Yachi shouted over the shrill shrieks of the fangirls. The two started down the long length of carpet a few paces, their paces matching exactly, before Oikawa paused. He spun dramatically on his heel, glancing over his shoulder to blow a kiss to the crowds on his right. The fans screamed and shrieked, one swooning into the arms of a disgruntled-looking security guard. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and tugged Oikawa past Yachi with a polite nod.

Another sleek car pulled up at the end of the carpet, and the crowds’ attention immediately snapped to stare as the door opened slowly. Out stepped a tall, dark-haired woman, dressed regally in black with long silk gloves and a feathered hand fan. She gazed over the crowd, her expression serene, and a hush fell over the swarms of people.

“And here comes the famous household name, Kiyoko Shimizu!” Yachi announced with admiration. “She’s starred in dozens of films, known as the most alluring, enchanting actress known to Hollywood—”

Kiyoko strode forward at a brisk pace, past the throng of people, who remained silent as their eyes followed her down the carpet. She paused briefly, and the entire population seemed to hold her breath as she turned to look at Yachi. Her tranquil expression flicked briefly and she gave the blonde woman the smallest of smiles before resuming her quick pace.

While the audience slowly recovered from the presence of the goddess-like woman, another car pulled up, and the crowds gasped as it slowed to a halt. 

“Oh!” Yachi exhaled quickly, her cheeks flushed. “Could it be—?”

The mass of people erupted into cheers as the doors opened slowly, and out of the car jumped a man with a thick black tangle of hair, wearing a sleek tux. His face broke into a grin and he raised a hand to greet the crowds.

Instantaneously, the cheers died, the crowd collectively let out a disappointed sigh. The man’s grin faltered and his hand dropped.

“...Well, if it isn’t Tetsurou Kuroo!” Yachi said quickly in the awkward silence, beaming at the taller man. He brightened at his name, walking briskly to greet her. “Kuroo here is a good friend of Daichi Sawamura, he plays the piano on the sets, helps to put actors into the mood of the scene—” A wait of sirens interrupted her. “—oh, could it be them?” 

A police car cruised past, accompanied by a line of motorcycles before yet another expensive car slowed to a halt. For the fourth time, the hordes of people exploded into screams, as both doors opened slowly.

A woman with short brown hair and a shiny tasseled dress as well as a thick white shawl stepped out of the nearest door. At the same time, a tall, dark-haired man with his hair gelled carefully and his suit pressed and smooth popped out of the other side, flashing a bright smile to the clamoring fans before crossing around the back briskly. He offered an arm to her, and the two stepped onto the carpet with smooth grace. The crowds pressed, shrieking and screaming, each and every one of them craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the two.

“It is! The stars of tonight’s picture!” Yachi shouted. “Daichi Sawamura and Yui Michimiya!”

The crowd erupted into chaos. They shoved at each other, pressing up against the line of security, pushing and pulling, shouting and shrieking as the couple ventured down the carpet.

Yachi raised her voice to shout over the noise. “This gorgeous couple has become a household name all over the world: Sawamura and Michimiya! Like...bacon and eggs,” she giggled, as the two strode down to stand next to her and Kuroo. “Now, please tell us, are these rumors true that wedding bells are soon to ring for you two?”

Daichi let out a laugh. “Now, Yachi,” he said, beaming, “Yui and I have no statement at the time, we’re just good friends. Aren’t we, Yui?” He turned to Michimiya, and she smiled widely back at him. The crowds shouted as the two beamed back at her.

“You’ve come quite a long way together. Won’t you tell us how it all happened?”

“Well...Yui and I have made a number of pictures together—”

“Oh no, Daichi, I want your story from the beginning. Your rise to fame, the beginning of your relationships together, all of it.”

Daichi let out another laugh, a loud, booming one, his cheeks tinged with the barest hint of pink. “Now, not in front of all these people,” he said gallantly, gesturing to the crowds with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

“Oh, won’t you? The story of your success is an inspiration to so many young, aspiring actors all over the world. Please!” Yachi’s eyes sparkled, glancing from actor to actress with a hopeful look on her face.

“Well, any story of my success would have to include my good friend here, Tetsurou Kuroo.” He reached out suddenly, slapping Kuroo on the back with a wide grin on his face. “We grew up, together, worked together, and he’s the reason I’m standing here today.” 

Daichi’s playful grin morphed into a more somber expression. “To tell the truth, Yachi, I’ve always lived by my motto: ‘Dignity, always dignity.’ As a child, I was sent to the very best of schools, including dancing school—which is where I met Kuroo. Together, we’d perform for Mum and Dad’s society friends.”

_Daichi’s feet were hurting from his too-small shoes, and he was cold in his ragged clothing. His toes were numb, but whether it’s from the cold, his shoes, or from dancing, he couldn’t tell. He stood in the middle of a saloon with a big, fake smile on his face, facing a crowd of half-drunk adults._

_He was seven years old._

_Kuroo stood a few feet away. He shot him a look, put his mouth onto a silver harmonica, and began to play it. Daichi started to dance, his too-small shoes clacking away on the saloon floor. Occasionally, they’d thrown a penny, but neither he nor Kuroo could stop to pick them up, not yet, they had to keep on going._

_“Hey!” The saloon owner burst out of the back door. “You two again! Get out!”_

_Kuroo shoved the harmonica into his back pocket and scooped up a few pennies nearest to him. Daichi did the same._

_“I said beat it!” The owner picked up a broom, swinging it at Daichi’s head._

_He ducked. “Run!” He shouted to Kuroo, and Kuroo bolted out the door._

“My parents, they used to make such a fuss over me. If I was very good, I’d accompany them to the theater. They brought me up on the finest of the classics—Shaw, Molière—”

 _Daichi was nine now, and he and Kuroo were strolling past the theater. He spotted a poster, emblazoned with bright colors;_ The Dangers of Drucilla—with Esme Gray—12th Episode. 

_He nudged Kuroo, who glanced at the poster. His eyes lit up._

_“C’mon,” he muttered to Kuroo. Together, they ducked under the ticket booth, snuck past the security, and slippedinto the theater unnoticed._

“And together Kuroo and I sought out the best of musical training, at the Conservatory of the Fine Arts.”

_Daichi was 18 now, and he and Kuroo were in matching, checkered suits. Daichi’s shirt was too small and Kuroo’s pants threatened to fall down. It’s Amateur Night._

_In unison, they lifted violins to their chin and started to play an upbeat toon, singing along with big grins on their faces. Daichi’s face hurt from all the smiling. He began to dance._

_“And still, my motto remained the same…‘Dignity, always dignity.’ In a few years, Kuroo and I embarked on our first dance-concert tour. We played the finest of pieces, at the most dignified places. Audiences everywhere adored us—”_

_“Get out of here, you’re not wanted!”_

_The audience was booing. Daichi kept a grin on his face, but Kuroo’s had long since dropped from his face. Together, they walked off the stage._

“And finally, we came to sunny California.”

_Daichi was in his 20s now. Kuroo was next to him. They stood under the awning of some store. It’s raining._

_Daichi tucked his chin into his worn coat collar. He wanted to cry, but he didn't. Kuroo sighed._

_Daichi was so, so hungry._

“We were staying here when offers from movie studios started pouring in. We sorted them out, and decided to favor Monumental Pictures.”

_Daichi was playing the violin, and Kuroo was playing the piano near him. They were playing ominous music—mood music—in the studio of Monumental Pictures, on the set of a Western bar._

_A lanky, silver-haired villain dressed in a red cowboy outfit was struggling to detain Yui Michimiya, dressed in silky pink, who was screaming silently. The camera focused on them, and he and Kuroo slowly picked up the pace of the tense music._

_“Okay, Michimiya, keep up the hatred! Struggle, you hate him, you’re resisting him!” A short, blond-haired man in a hat was shouting at the actors from his director’s seat. “Okay, now Tora!”_

_A dark-haired actor dressed in a blue cowboy outfit burst into the set and spotted the silver-haired villain with Michimiya._

_“Okay, here’s where you get it, right in the jaw!” The director shouted. The blue cowboy gave the silver-haired one a punch in the face. He tumbled backward and crumpled to the floor, slumping against the fake bar._

_“Cut!” Daichi and Kuroo stopped playing._

_“Lev, that wasn’t right at all!” The blond director rushed onto the scene, and he slammed his fist repeatedly on a nearby bar stool. “You’re supposed to go head over heels over the bar and crash into the glasses!” He jabbed a finger at a fake shelf haphazardly nailed to the wall, then at the actor on the floor. “Try it again, Lev!”_

_The silver-haired actor didn’t stir from the floor._

_“Lev!”_

_Another man—a blond boy with dark roots, the director’s apprentice—looked up from a script from a chair, with an expression of indifference. “He’s unconscious, Yaku.”_

_Yaku cursed. “He can’t be unconscious, Kenma! It’ll take us hours to get another stunt man on this picture.” He nudged at Lev with his boot, who still did not stir. “Damn it! This is swell, just swell. Take him away, fellas.”_

_Two men dashed onto the scene, and Daichi set his violin down on the piano. “Hey, Mr. Yaku!”_

_“Daichi, no, he’ll murder you!” Kuroo hissed at him, but Daichi ignored him._

_“I think I can do that stunt for you,” he called out to Yaku._

_Yaku whirled around. “What, you? You’re a musician.”_

_“That’s a good point,” Kuroo muttered under his breath._

_Yaku ignored him. “What’s your name, violin boy?”_

_Daichi grinned. “Dai Sawamura, sir, but the fellas all call me Daichi,” he said, with a mocking salute._

_Yaku grimaced. “Wiseguy, huh?” He pushed Daichi off the set. “Get him into Lev’s suit!”_

_Ten minutes later, Daichi found himself in the red cowboy outfit. He grasped Michimiya’s hands, and pretended to struggle with her for a minute._

_“Now, Tora!”_

_The dark-haired cowboy burst into the fake bar yet again._

_“Okay, you see him! Pull him off Yui. Now, right in the jaw!”_

_And Tora’s fist crashed into his face, and Daichi’s eyes watered, but he managed to tumble backward over the bar. He crashed into the glasses, and they shattered over his head as he disappeared behind the bar._

_Ow, he thought to himself._

_“That was brilliant!” Yaku charged over to him, and Daichi sat up slowly. He brushed a few shards of glass off his shoulder. “Sawamura, would you like to be promoted to stunt man? You’ve got the talent for it.”_

_Daichi grined. “I’d sure love that,” he said, and he shook Yaku’s hand._

_Across the set, Kuroo’s jaw dropped._

“My roles in these films were sophisticated, suave—”

_Daichi was a full-time stunt man for Monumental Pictures. He drove motorcycles off cliffs. He jumped over building alleys. He ran into burning shacks and houses full of explosives._

_After he finished filming for the day, he trotted hopefully over to Michimiya, his costume smoking slightly. “Hiya there, Ms. Michimiya. I’m Daichi Sawamura, the stunt man.”_

_Michimiya glanced at him with disdain, looking at his tattered clothes with a wrinkled nose. She turned her back to him._

_Daichi sighed_

_“Daichi, come over here for a second.”_

_Daichi turned around, and Kenma, now a director, was standing there with another older, tall man. “This is Keishin Ukai. He’s the owner of Monumental and he’s producing this picture,” Kenma introduced with a subdued tone._

_Ukai reached out a hand, and Daichi shook it. “How do you do? I just saw some of your scenes and asked Kenma who the stuntmen were. He told me it was all you, for this picture and for several others before this, it seems.”_

_Daichi, still slightly shocked that he’s talking to the owner of the studio, nodded dumbly. “That’s right.”_

_“Well, I’d like to offer you a lead in the next picture. We’ll have you star with Lina. Come to my office after lunch and we’ll discuss a contract.”_

_Daichi stared at him. Ukai patted his shoulder and walked away. After a moment, Daichi collected himself and shouted after him with a big grin. “Thanks, Mr. Ukai!”_

_Kenma gave him a small, subtle smile and walked away. Daichi beamed. He should find Kuroo and tell him the news, he thought to himself, spinning on his heel._

_In front of him was Michimiya. She smiled widely at him._

_What a switch in attitude, Daichi thought to himself._

_“Well, Ms. Michimiya,” he said, “Are you doing anything tonight?”_

_She shook her head._

_“That’s funny,” he said smoothly. “I’m busy.”_

_And he strode off to find Kuroo._

“But most important of all, I have kept living up to my motto. ‘Dignity. Always dignity.’” Daichi flashed another big smile to the crowd, giving them a wave as he stepped back. The audience burst into applause, and Yachi beams in adoration.

“Thank you, Daichi,” she says. “And I’m sure that you and Yui will continue to make movie history tonight with the premiere of The Royal Rascal. Thank you, everyone, and good night!”

And with that, Daichi, Kuroo, and Michimiya turned around and headed into the theater.

* * *

Daichi watched from the wings, surveying the audience’s reactions to the picture. Kuroo sidled up next to him.

“Looks like they’re enjoying it,” Daichi murmured.

Kuroo hummed in agreement. “Nice speech you had earlier,” he said slyly. “Very truthful. Inspiring. I like your motto, never heard it before.”

“Aw, shut up. What was I supposed to say? That we were starving orphans until we got hired here?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Kenma thought it was ‘a little funny’,” he air quoted. “Wanted to know if Ukai put you up to that.”

“Nah.” Daichi watched himself start sword fighting with an attack onscreen. “Publicity department.”

Kuroo snorted. “The same people who started the rumor that you’re engaged to Michimiya?”

“The very same.”

“Daichi,” a stagehand tapped his shoulder. “You and Michimiya are on in five. Ready?” Daichi nodded. Michimiya joined his side, her face solemn.

Daichi watched as he and Michimiya embraced onscreen, then shared an intimate kiss. He grimaced. The words “THE END” in fancy, curling letters appeared, and the audience erupted into applause as the curtain in front of the screen closed and the lights brightened. 

“And remember,” the stagehand whispered urgently into Daichi’s ear. “Don’t let Michimiya talk!”

Daichi nodded.

Daichi and Michimiya walked onstage, and Daichi slapped on a big smile. Together, they stood in the center of the stage. In unison, they bowed, and next to him, Michimiya opened her mouth.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” Daichi bowed his head again, then came up, still beaming. “Thank you.”

Michimiya opened her mouth again, but again, Daichi spoke first. “We’re pretty darned thrilled at your response to _The Royal Rascal._ It was fun making it, and I hope you had fun seeing it tonight.”

The audience erupted into applause again.

Michimiya opened her mouth once more.

“We screen actors aren’t much good at speaking in public, you know,” Daichi cut her off gracefully. “So we better just...act out our thanks.”

He bowed once more, and when he rose, he threw a big kiss. Michimiya smiled, looking somewhat annoyed, but her face relaxed, and she started blowing kisses as well. And together, they backed off the stage.

Ukai, Kuroo, and surprisingly, Kenma, were waiting for them in the wings. Ukai and Kuroo had big grins on their faces. “Daichi, Yui, you both were wonderful!” 

Michimiya’s big smile dropped sharply from her face, replaced with a look of fury as she charged toward Ukai. “For heaven's sake!” she seethed. “What’s the big idea, can’t a girl get a word in edgewise?”

Daichi winced.

Michimiya’s voice was shrill and flat, grating against Daichi’s ears as if it were grinding his eardrums like cheese. Even after years of working together, he never quite got used to her voice. It was a shock to everyone who heard it.

Ukai grimaced. “Lina, the publicity department thought it might be best if Daichi makes all the speeches.”

Michimiya’s face flushed red. “Why?” she demanded. 

“Well, you’re a beautiful woman, of course, audiences think that you’ve got a voice to match,” Ukai explained patiently.

“If you spoke in front of a crowd, they’d be shocked. We’ve got to keep you for looking ridiculous, at any cost,” Kenma spoke flatly.

“No one’s got that much money,” Kuroo muttered.

Daichi cringed at their bluntness, but the damage was done. Michimiya flared up, furious.

“What’s wrong with the way I talk? What’s the big idea—am I dumb or something?” She asked, reproachful.

Kuroo exchanged a look with Daichi, rolling his eyes. Daichi glared at him. Michimiya _wasn’t_ dumb, that was the thing—but with her looks, as well as her shrill, grating voice, she was constantly underestimated and talked down to. Daichi found himself guilty of that occasionally. Despite this, Ukai attempted to soften the blow.

“No, it’s just that Don’s had so much more experience—” he said hastily.

“Next time, just write me out a speech or something!” Michimiya exclaimed, her voice high and strident. “I can memorize it—”

“Sure, why don’t you go out there now and recite the Gettysburg Address?” Kuroo said snidely. Daichi shot him a look. _Too far._

Michimiya swiveled around to level a glare at him. “What do you know about it, you piano player! You’re nobody!” She shouted at Kuroo. Kuroo grimaced. Ouch. Michimiya ignored him, swiveling around to look at Daichi. “Dai, how can you let them talk to me this way—I’m your fiancée, after all!”

 _There it was. Not again._ Daichi clutched at his head. “My fiancée—Michimiya, let me emphasize this: we are not dating, or engaged. There is nothing in between us. Please, for god’s sake, stop reading those fan magazines—that...phonus balonus that they spew out about is. Those are just rumors from the publicity department! There has never been anything in between us!”

Michimiya smiled, an overly sweet simper. “Oh, you don’t mean that. C’mon, we need to leave, the party’s in a half-hour.”

“Ah.” Kenma tapped Daichi’s shoulder. “You’re going in separate cars to break up the mobs.”

“Oh, alright then,” Michimiya turned, blowing Daichi a kiss. “See you there!”

Daichi grimaced and turned around. Kuroo was whispering into Kenma’s ear, who had a look of half-interest on his face. Kuroo smirked. 

Daichi rolled his eyes. 

“Kuroo,” he said sternly.

Kuroo straightened up, ruffling Kenma’s hair. “See you, Ken,” he said, as Kenma made a face. Kuroo turned to Daichi. “Well?”

Daichi sighed. “Can’t she take a gentle hint?” he asked wearily. “I can’t get her out of my hair. This cooked-up romance, just for publicity.”

“The price of fame, Daichi! Look at me, I got no glory, I got no fame. I got no money! But I’ve got—” Kuroo stopped there, his arms open imploringly. “What have I got?”

Daichi laughed. “I don’t know, what have you got?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I gotta get outta here. Let’s blouse.”

* * *

“Yui’s not the sharpest knife in the box, but she’s not some sort of dumb Dora, Kuroo.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you can’t say the fact that she believes all of these rumors about the two of you when you’ve never even gone on a date? C’mon, Sawamura.”

“Listen, Kuroo, just because she has a dumb voice doesn’t mean she’s—” He was interrupted by a low hiss, and the car slowed to a halt. Kuroo cursed and hit the wheel.

“Don’t tell me,” Daichi groaned, already opening the car door. “It’s a flat tire.”

“I don’t understand it, this baby has never let me down before.” Kuroo shut the door behind him, tossing his jacket aside before crouching down to examine the tires. 

“Your car’s a hayburner, Kuroo.”

“She’s never given me a bore before, but we need to get going—”

“Hey, that’s Daichi Sawamura!” Someone shouted. Daichi swiveled around, his eyes widening. 

_Shit._

Everyone on the street swiveled their head around at the noise, letting out a scream at the sight of him. In an instant, Daichi found himself surrounded by people. They flocked to him like moths to a lamp, some begging for his autograph, some tugging at his clothes—he flinched, raising his arms into the air as their shouts grew.

“Daichi, I’m a huge fan—”

“Could I have an autograph, please—”

“Sign this, please—”

“Daichi—”

“Kuroo, don’t just stand there! Get help, call me a taxi—” Daichi let out a yelp as a desperate fan grasped at his suit and yanked at it, the lining tearing off with a loud rip.

Kuroo was leaning against the car, an amused expression on his face. He shrugged. “Okay. You’re a taxi.”

“Oh, that’s really funny!” Daichi roared over the excited shrieks of the fangirls that were swarming around him in a chaotic frenzy. He broke out of their grasps—effectively tearing his suit in two, but he couldn’t give a care at the moment—and dashed into the street on a rather deranged impulse.

Before he could even register the stupidity of his actions, he ran alongside the nearest open convertible speeding down the road, grabbed the door, and vaulted himself over it to land into the passenger’s seat.

He let out an exhale of relief as he saw Kuroo and the crowd of people receding into the distance. Years of being a stunt man have sure come in handy, he thought to himself with a grin, turning to face the driver of the car.

And in the split second that he first glimpsed the person sitting beside him, he registered three things:

  1. It was a man, and there was no doubt about it: He was absolutely gorgeous. He has sort of a charmingly alluring beauty to him, with silver-toned hair and creamy porcelain-like skin, and sweet brown eyes.

  2. Daichi was blushing. Daichi wasn’t normally easily flustered, or at least he didn’t show it—he was an actor, for god’s sake, and even off-screen his personality was tailored to a charismatic gentleman—and not much could crack his molded mask that felt permanently frozen into a large, bright, and incredibly fake smile. But here he was, staring into the eyes of a driver who owned a car he had just leapt to on a whim.

  3. This man was screaming.




“Oh my God, who the hell are you?” He shrieked. “You—you just jumped into my car!”

 _Shit._ “Oh God, I’m so sorry—”

“Who are you, some kind of—some con man? Your clothes are torn—” The man’s face morphed into horror. “You look familiar! That would explain it—you’re a criminal! I’ve seen you somewhere, the papers—” The man’s voice rose higher and higher, and Daichi glanced at the road, suddenly realizing how the car was swerving dangerously as the driver paid less and less attention to his driving. “—escaped from prison? Officer!” He shouted out suddenly, and the car screeched to a halt at the side of the road.

“This man just jumped into my car!” The silver-haired man was explaining wildly to a police officer walking down the road. “Just dashed across the street and leapt in, you see, his clothes are torn—”

Daichi shook his head in a frantic attempt to explain himself. “No, I mean, yes, I did do that, but—”

The officer was staring at Daichi, his face lit up. “Hey, you’re Daichi Sawamura!”

“—scared me half to death—what?” The man stopped abruptly, staring at Daichi.

Daichi nodded. “Yes, but—”

“Why, it’s my lucky day! My wife is a huge fan of your pictures, we were going to see one this week—The Royal Rascal, was it?” Daichi nodded, and the officer turned to the man with a smile. “Is there a problem, sir?”

He had quieted considerably, but his cheeks remained flushed. “Why...no,” he said simply, surprisingly calm.

“Well, have a pleasant evening then, sirs.” The officer tipped his hat, and the two drove off.

They drove in silence for several moments, before Daichi spoke up.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he told the man next to him. “I’ll get out now.”

It was quiet for a moment or two, then the man spoke, still with a startlingly calm and quiet tone. “Can I drop you somewhere?”

Daichi rubbed the back of his neck, his face still warm. “I need to get to Sunset and Camden if it’s not too much trouble...”

“Oh, no trouble at all, I’m heading the same way...” The man was quiet for another moment. “I’m Koushi, Koushi Sugawara, but you can call me Suga.” His voice was lilting and sweet, almost like his words were drops of honey coaxed off his tongue. 

“Well, Suga, I’m Daichi,” Daichi smiled at him—a real smile, not his charismatic grin—and was happy to see Suga smile back. “Many apologies for jumping into your car...” He gestured to his suit, which was indeed torn to shreds. “I was getting a bit too much love from my...adoring fans.”

“Oh, was that what happened?” Daichi nodded. “That’s terrible! They did that to you?”

And for no apparent reason, Daichi felt a strange need to...impress this man? He wanted to make him smile at him, to look at him with those pretty brown eyes with adoration. Questioning where these odd emotions stemmed from, he found himself sighing.

“Yes, well, movie stars get the glory, I suppose, we gotta take the little heartaches that come with it. People think we lead lives of glamor and romance, but really, we’re just...lonely.” 

Suga was silent for a moment, and then he spoke up suddenly, his tone high and airy. Like his words simply danced off, light as feathers. “Sorry I got so startled—you see, I knew I’d seen you somewhere, if anywhere.” 

Daichi let out a chuckle. “Which of my pictures have you seen?”

Suga hummed, and then he clicked his tongue. “I don’t quite remember…” he said slowly. His voice was lilting, light, innocent. Almost...teasing? “I saw one, once, though.”

Daichi felt his hopes drop. “One, once?”

Suga nodded, a hint of a smirk brushing his cheeks. “Yes, I think you were dueling. And there was a girl there–Yui Michimiya.” He kept his eyes on the road, his tone still alight and dancing. “I’m not a big fan of the movies, I don’t go much. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

Daichi raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” he asked.

Suga looked at him in mock surprise. “Oh, no offense, of course. Movies are entertaining for normal people, but the personalities on the screen just don’t impress me. They’re silent after all, aren’t they? They don’t talk, they don’t act, they just do a lot of dumb show,” he laughed. At Daichi’s quizzical look, he added, “Oh, you know.”

He made a few exaggerated pantomimes; his eyes and mouth open wide in shock, his mouth frozen in a laugh, his eyes lustful and his lips parted, imitating. He dropped the expressions and looked to Daichi. “Like that.”

Although his impressions were pretty much spot-on, Daichi couldn’t help but feel offended. “Oh, so like what I do,” he said flatly.

Suga flashed him a wide smile, and Daichi had a sharp pang of deja-vu. His smile reminded Daichi of his own, the wide, forced beam that he wore in public, at premieres, with his fans. “Why, yes. What you do,” Suga said innocently. 

Daichi opened his mouth again, but swiftly, Suga cut him off. “Oh, here we are, Sunset and Camden!” he sang, pulling up to the side of the road.

“Hang on a moment.” Daichi shifted in his seat to look Suga in the eyes. “So you don’t believe I’m an actor? That what I do isn’t acting?”

Suga let out a laugh and shook his head. “Why, of course not. Real acting is with great parts, amazing roles, glorious speaking—”

“Speaking?”

“—works of Shakespeare, Ibsen—”

“Tell me then, Suga, what is your profession, that gives you the right to sneer at my humble roles?”

Something flickered in Suga’s eyes, and he blinked. “Well, I’m an actor.”

“An actor?”

“On the stage.”

“On the _stage!_ You really know your onions, don’t you? Well, Suga, I’d like to see you in a play, what are you in right now?” Daichi asked mockingly. Something deep down told him to stop, but his pride was a large one, and he didn’t want to back down.

“Well, I’m not in anything right now, but I will be!” He squared his shoulders. “I’m going to New York—”

Daichi let out a laugh, cutting him off. “Oh, you’re going to New York, and someday we’ll all hear of you, will we? Koushi Sugawara, as Hamlet, as Romeo—”

“You slay me,” Suga said dryly. “Well, you can laugh all you want, but just because you’re some big, upstage movie star, you can’t expect everyone to love you. So take your shattered pride and beat it.”

Daichi scoffed, before putting on a dramatic air. “Fear no, my gentle sir, I will no longer disgrace you with my presence.” He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. “Farewell, John Barrymore, I shall tear myself from your side!”

He turned to leave with a sharp turn, but before he could walk down the street, he heard a loud _RIP_ and felt as if he were being tugged backward slightly. Suga burst into laughter. 

He twisted around to see what happened, finding half of his coat lying half on the street, the tails caught into the door. It had torn in half. He bit back a scream and turned back around again, starting down the street, his blood boiling. 

* * *

Daichi walked into the living room of Keishin Ukai’s mansion, the owner of Monumental Pictures, adjusting the cuffs of a borrowed suit. Immediately, he spotted Kuroo leaning against a wall, looking bored, and made his way over.

Kuroo spotted him and grinned. “Hey, Daichi. How’d you get here, by way of Australia?”

“How’d you get here before me?” Daichi asked, incredulous.

Kuroo shrugged. “I have my ways.” Daichi shot him a look. He sighed. “Kenma picked me up.”

Daichi let out a half sigh, half groan, barely registering Kuroo’s answer. “Tell me the truth, Kuroo,” he said wearily. “Am I a good actor?”

“Well, as long as I’m employed by Monumental Pictures, you’re the greatest actor there ever was.”

“No, I’m serious. Am I a good actor?”

Kuroo tilted his head at Daichi. “What’s the matter with you? Of course you’re good, Daichi, you’re a great actor.”

Daichi sighed. “Just...remind me of that every once in a while?”

“Did something happen?”

Daichi paused. A brief image of Suga looking at him in disdain flickered in his brain. “Nothing, never mind, Kuroo, thank you.”

“Sawamura!” 

Daichi turned around to face the source of the noise. There was Keishin Ukai, the host, striding over to him. He was dressed primly in a still tux, and he had a large grin on his face. “There you are, we were wondering where you’ve been.”

“Dai!” Michimiya called, and immediately, she was at his side. “What happened? Were you caught up somewhere? I was worried when Kuroo got her without you.”

Daichi smiled at her wearily. “Yeah, Kuroo’s car broke down and I got caught up with some fans.”

Ukai grinned even wider, and he took both actors by the arm and led them to the middle of the room. “Well, here they are, folks, my two biggest stars. We’ve got another big smash on our hands.”

The guests broke out into applause. Ukai clapped with them, then his expression changed into something more serious. “Now, here’s why we’re all here tonight. If everyone could take a seat, I’ve got something to show you all.”

The crowds murmured to each other, but sat down in nearby chairs or couches. Kuroo sidled over to stand by Daichi. “What’s this?” He muttered to Daichi.

Daichi shrugged. Ukai clapped a hand down on the shoulder of a short man next to him, with dark hair and glasses. “This is Ittetsu Takeda, and for the past several weeks he’s been bugging me about this new gadget they’ve made. Says it’ll be the next big thing.” He turned to Takeda with a grin. “You got it working?”

“All set, Ukai.” Takeda nodded to a young man, and the lights dimmed and a screen lowered on the furthest wall.

“A movie? We just saw one,” Daichi muttered to Kuroo.

“Well, you gotta show a movie at a party, it’s Hollywood law,” Kuroo muttered back with a half-grin.

“Alright, let her go.” Ukai crossed his arms and watched his guests carefully. Daichi turned his attention to the screen.

The familiar whirring of film was heard through the silence of the room, and a projection appeared on the screen. A man was there, sitting at a desk, flipping through papers. And a rustling sound was heard, loud and crackling as if it were right next to their ears. Daichi’s face contorted into a look of confusion.

“Sound?” Michimiya murmured.

Daichi was about to respond, but the man looked up with a smile and walked closer to the camera. “Hello,” he said, in a low, jovial tone. “This is a demonstration of a talking picture.”

Daichi’s eyes widened. Next to him, Michimiya gasped, and Kuroo’s jaw dropped. The man continued. “Notice—it is a picture of me, and I am talking. My lip and the sound issuing from them are together in _perfect_ unison.”

Around him, the guests were beginning to stir. “What’s this?” one asked.

“I know what it is. There’s someone behind that screen.” It was Hajime Iwaizumi, his eyes narrowed at the screen.

“Come out, whoever’s back there!” someone shouted.

Ukai laughed “I can assure you, there’s no one back there.”

The film continued, the man still speaking. “Since the earliest days of cinema, the concept of simultaneous sound has been the primary goal of our best engineers. My voice has been recorded on a record and played with the film. A talking picture.”

Daichi found himself gaping at the screen, and he shut his mouth. _A talking picture?_

“Thank you. Good-bye.” The man smiled, and the film ended.

The lights came back on, and Ukai turned to his guests. “Well? What did you all think?”

Oikawa scoffed, Iwaizumi’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s just a toy,” he said.

Yachi, in a nearby chair, giggled and added on, “It’s a scream.”

“It’s vulgar,” someone muttered from behind Daichi. 

“Ukai, you don’t think people will really use this, do you?” Daichi called.

Ukai shrugged. “The Warner Brothers are making a whole picture with it—they’re calling it _The Jazz Singer._ ”

“Say, Kenma. You’re a director, what do you think of all this?” Someone shouted to the young director, who was sitting in a chair. He was staring at the blank screen with a subdued expression.

“It’ll never amount to a thing,” he said darkly. “People don’t like change around here, even if it is genius.”

Kuroo let out a laugh. “That’s what they said about the horseless carriage, Kenma.”

Kenma rolled his eyes at him, his gaze dropping to his lap.

Ukai looked to Takeda, who looked disappointed. “Ah, it was worth a shot,” he said, then clapped his hands. “You two—” he gestured to Daichi and Michimiya. “—come with me, I have a surprise for you two.”

Daichi grimaced, but followed Ukai to the other side of the room, to two double doors. As they approached, the doors opened, and a large cake was wheeled out into the room. 

Daichi stared at the cake. It was frosted with pink, with the words ‘Monumental Pictures” iced on it. Ukai clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s to celebrate the premiere, of course, I want you to have the first piece—”

Suddenly, the top of the cake burst off, and Daichi jumped backward as a slender man dressed in bright pink popped out, beaming. Daichi swore under his breath, brushing bits of plaster off of his suit, glancing up at the man who’d jumped out of the fake cake. He froze.

Silver hair. Brown eyes and a mole on the left side of his face. Pink lips.

Koushi Sugawara’s big smile slipped off his face, replaced with horror as he stared down at Daichi.

Daichi stared for another moment, then broke out into laughter. “Why,” he said. “If it isn’t the great John Barrymore!”

Suga’s face flushed pink, but all of a sudden, the band broke out into sound, and a dozen more men and women flooded through the doors, all dressed in identical frilly pink. Suga frowned, jumped down from the table, but Daichi pulled out of Michimiya’s grasp to follow him.

“Well, how have you been? Are you here to favor us with something special tonight?” He said mockingly. Suga gritted his teeth as he and the rest of the chorus handed out rolls of confetti to the guests. “Say, Hamlet’s soliloquy, or perhaps, the balcony scene from _Romeo and Juliet?_ ”

Suga whirled around. “Mr. Lockwood,” he started, but the music suddenly loudened, and the rest of the chorus started gathering in the middle of the room. Suga shot Daichi a glare before joining them, posing with a wide smile. Daichi grinned, leaning against the wall as the chorus started to sing.

“ _All I do is dream of you, the whole night through!_ ” They sang. “ _With the dawn, I still go on, dreaming of you._ ” 

Daichi almost broke out into laughter. So this is the professional acting he does on the stage?

“ _You’re every thought, you’re everything, you’re every song I ever sing, summer, winter, autumn, and spring._ ” The dancers sand and spun around. “ _And were there more than 24 hours a day? They’d be spent, in sweet content, dreaming away._ ”

Daichi watched them in amusement. Suga noticed him watching and glared, still singing. “ _Skies are gray, skies are blue! Morning, noon, and nighttime too. All I do, the whole night through, is dream of you!_ ”

The chorus finished, posing with their arms in the air and identical wide smiles. The guests burst into applause, cheering and whistling. They waved goodbye, still smiling, and left the room with bouncing steps. But before Suga could back away, Daichi grabbed his wrist. He pulled him aside by a table of food and drinks and decorated cakes as the rest of the chorus filed away through the double doors where they entered.

“I just had to tell you how good you were,” Daichi said with over-sugared cheer. “Your..acting on the stage, did you say? Quite dignified, professional—”

Suga glared, opening his mouth to retort, but before he could respond, Michimiya popped up next to Daichi with a shiny grin. “Daichi, who’s this?” She asked, tilting her head at Suga.

“Oh, someone far above us all, Michimiya,” Daichi answered loftily. “He’s an actor on the legitimate stage. He couldn’t learn anything from the movies.”

Suga’s face flushed red with anger. “Here’s one thing I’ve learned from the movies!” He said hotly, picking up a large, heavily frosted (and very much real) cake from the table behind him.

And before Daichi could even blink, Suga had hurled the cake into his face.

He did the sensible thing and ducked.

Or maybe, not so sensible.

The cake flew over Daichi’s head—it was like watching it frame by frame—and Daichi’s eyes widened as it soared through the air, and hit Michimiya smack in the face.

“Oh, God.” Suga’s face was filled with horror. “Oh God, Michimiya, I’m awful sorry—”

It was silent as the dead for several long, agonizing seconds.

Then Michimiya screamed.

“I’ll kill him!” She screeched, and her arms shot out blindly, grasping at Suga.

“Michimiya, no, he was aiming at me, don’t—” Daichi panicked, grasping her shoulders in an attempt to console her, to no avail.

Kuroo appeared at Daichi’s side, smiling good-naturedly despite the chaos in front of him as Daichi struggled to keep Michimiya calm. “Michimiya, you’ve never looked lovelier,” he said breezily.

Daichi turned around to shoot him a glare but froze. “Hey, where’d Suga go?” He asked Kuroo, his brow furrowing.

Kuroo stared at him. “Suga?” He asked blankly.

“Never mind.” Daichi released Michimiya, who was still struggling against his grasp. _Shit, did I go too far?_ He thought to himself as he charged into the back room where the rest of the chorus had gone.

“Hey—Daichi!” Kuroo shouted after him, but Daichi had already burst through the double doors. He found himself surrounded by the rest of the chorus, looking desperately around the room. They erupted into exclamations of horror, half changed out of their costumes into street clothes.

“Excuse me, where did Mister Sugawara go?” He asked wildly.

The man nearest him, already dressed in normal clothes, gave him a shrug. “He just grabbed his things and bolted,” he said, tilting his head at the exit.

A woman, still dressed in her frilly costume, looked him up and down, then smiled at him. “Anything I can do for you?” She asked sweetly.

Daichi grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t have time to find out,” he said, bolting toward the exit. He dashed down a set of stairs before skidding to half just as Suga’s car sped past.

“Suga!” He chased after him. “Suga, wait, I’m—” He slowed as the car picked up speed, already out of earshot. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words falling to deaf ears.

He was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to [mereibitch](https://mereibitch.tumblr.com/) ([Pepper_Moon on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepper_Moon/pseuds/Pepper_Moon)) as well as [lessons-from-moths](https://lessons-from-moths.tumblr.com/lessons-from-moths) ([LessonsFromMoths on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths)) and [dinofcker](https://dinofcker.tumblr.com/) ([dinofcker on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinofcker/pseuds/dinofcker)). Thanks for all your help with motivation, titles, chapter names, and so much more. Check out their writing, they’re all amazingly talented.
> 
> AS ALWAYS BETA'D BY MY ABSOLUTELY AMAZING BETA READER [midnightswordsdance](https://midnightswordsdance.tumblr.com/) ([midnightswordsdance on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightswordsdance/pseuds/midnightswordsdance)) SHE’S FANTASTIC PLEASE CHECK HER STUFF OUT
> 
> Some info, if you’re confused:
> 
> Daichi’s speech was literally just bullshit. He used to be a humble musician with nothing to his name, and then he became a stunt man, and by complete luck, he got a role in an actual picture. “Dignity, always dignity” my ass.
> 
> Silent films were very popular in the “silent era” which was from 1894-1929, with intertitles with writing for dialogue, story points, or even commentary. Charlie Chaplin, for example, is a silent film actor. Daichi and Michimiya are the stars of many silent films. They use a lot of pantomime, and Suga makes fun of this in the car.
> 
> This story takes place in 1927, and people have started to be able to synchronize sound with the film. Ukai showed his guests an early example of this, and as you can tell: no one thought it would be a big thing. Obviously, they were wrong, but we’ll get to that next chapter.
> 
> There’s no such thing as a chorus boy. The original chorus was only girls, but obviously I needed a male equivalent but that does not exist, so I combined girls and boys for the point of the scene. Chorus girls are entertainers, they sing and dance, which is why Daichi makes fun of how Suga claimed to be a professional actor when really he works for chorus. Also, he bursts out of a fake cake. I don’t know if that was clear.
> 
> John Barrymore is a famous actor of the Barrymore family. In the original movie, Don Lockwood calls Kathy Selvin “Ethel Barrymore” who is John Barrymore’s sister.
> 
> Some 20s slang/phrases:
> 
> Hayburner: a car that uses a lot of gas  
> A bore: a flat tire  
> Dumb Dora: not smart person (usually a woman)  
> Know your onions: know your facts/up-to-date  
> Upstage: snobby/arrogant  
> Beat it: get lost  
> Picture: film/movie  
> Mood music: music to set the mood. In this situation it’s used to set the mood for the scene.
> 
> If you haven’t seen Singin’ in the Rain (either the movie or the musical) I highly encourage you to do so! This is based on the movie (a good chuck of dialogue is copied word for word, especially Cosmo Brown’s famous one-liners)
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter out soon, but I’ll be finishing up Taking Matters Into Our Own Hands before then. If you celebrate, happy late thanksgiving!
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave kudos and comments, they make me so incredibly happy :) Thanks for reading!! Have a wonderful day today, and please stay safe and healthy out there!


	2. Make ‘Em Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi just wants to apologize, but hasn’t seen Koushi Sugawara in weeks, and Kuroo makes an attempt to cheer him up. Ukai’s made a decision, but how will it affect Kuroo? Suga needs to keep his celebrity crush under wraps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a terrifying long four months since I last updated this, yikes. My apologies, I hope I don’t disappoint!

It was a bright sunny day in California, but Daichi Sawamura was not in a good mood.

Normally on a day like today, he’d take a stroll through the courtyard of the studio, maybe have lunch outside. Enjoy the clear blue skies while chatting with Kuroo during his breaks. Daichi was one to take advantage of good weather, after all.

Instead, he found himself inside, walking briskly through the bustling studio, his hands in his pockets. He frowned as he passed a set—a train, with two actors engaged in a heated brawl over the roof as an actress screamed silently in the compartment below. The director was shouting at the actors, on his feet. “Keep up that action! Keep on screaming there, lean out the window, that’s it! Now you duck, and punch him in the jaw!”

Daichi nodded to one of the cameramen and strolled away with a sigh.

 _Maybe if you didn’t have such stupid pride, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now,_ he thought to himself sourly. _Maybe, if you’d just stopped the joke earlier, you wouldn’t be sulking right now and Koushi Sugawara wouldn’t have thrown that damn cake in Michimiya’s face. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been fired and maybe you wouldn’t have to be hunting him down right now just to apologize._

“Hiya, Dai.”

Daichi looked up. There was Kuroo, perched on a bench pushed up against the studio wall, a bologna sandwich and a magazine in hand.

“Hiya,” he said.

Kuroo gestured to the space next to him, and Daichi sat down, stretching his legs out with a sigh. “Didya read _Variety_ today?” Kuroo asked, gesturing to the magazine in his hand.

“No.” Daichi shut his eyes and leaned his head back into the wall. 

“Remember the talking picture that Ukai was talking about a few weeks ago? _The Jazz Singer?_ All-time smash, end of the first week.”

“All-time flop, end of the second,” someone said darkly.

Daichi leaned forward to see Kenma seated on the ground next to Kuroo. “Hiya, Kenma.”

“Hey.”

Kuroo nudged at Kenma’s foot with his. “What did you say about talking pictures again? ‘It’ll never amount to a thing,’” he mimicked Kenma’s bored drawl.

“Shut up.” Kenma nudged his foot back. “A lot’s gonna change around here, Kuro.”

Kuroo’s grin faltered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daichi asked, leaning forward a bit more to look at Kenma.

Kenma reached up and tore off a piece of Kuroo’s crust. “People are gonna start installing sound equipment, obviously,” he said. “Studios have to hire people for that—technicians, vocal coaches. Purchasing the equipment isn’t going to be easy, either. Those kinds of things don’t fit in our current budget.”

“So…”

“Studio’s probably going to lay people off.”

“Oh.”

“For example,” Kuroo said bitterly. “A musician that makes mood music on the sets of pictures that have no sound. So, me.”

“Oh. Shit.”

Kuroo brushed the crumbs off his pants with a forced grin. “It’s fine, Daichi. I can get a new job.”

Memories of hopping from city to city and living paycheck to paycheck flashed through Daichi’s mind. They’d gotten lucky with Monumental Pictures. Daichi had gotten even luckier. If Kuroo lost this job—“Shit, Kuroo. Live with me for a bit, I got plenty of room—”

“It’s _fine,_ Daichi,” Kuroo cut him off, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ll handle it.”

“Besides,” Kenma mumbled. “If anything, he’d be living with me.”

Kuroo’s cheeks turned red and he cleared his throat. “So, Daichi,” he said loudly. “You’re starting a new picture today, right?”

Daichi hesitated for a moment, wanting to fill his friend with consolations and reassurance, but Kuroo’s shoulders were tense, and he obviously didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Yeah.” He let out a sigh. “I’m now Comte Pierre de Bataille, better known as the Duelling Cavalier.”

Kenma chuckled. Kuroo snorted. “And what’s this one about?” He asked.

“It’s a French Revolution story.”

Kuroo let out another snort. “Wait, don’t tell me.” He screwed his face into a pompous expression, puffing out his chest. “You, Pierre...whatever, the Duelling Canada—”

“Duelling Cavalier.”

“—the Duelling Cavalier, is a French aristocrat, and she’s a simple girl of the people—and she won’t even give you a tumbril.”

Kenma chucked again. Kuroo grinned proudly, and Daichi let himself smile. “Yeah, well, it’s a living.”

Kuroo handed the magazine to Kenma and finished off his sandwich. “C’mon, Dai. Let’s get you to your set.”

“Bye, Kuro,” Kenma got to his feet, tucking the magazine under his arm.

“Bye, Kitten.” Kuroo slung his arms around Daichi’s shoulders, and the two started walking. “Hey, why even bother to shoot a whole new picture? Why not just...release an old one under a new title.” Daichi scoffed. “Hey, I’m serious. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, of course.”

Daichi froze. _If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,_ a singsongy, clear voice echoed in his mind.

Kuroo slowed his pace and stared at him. “What’s the matter? You look as if you’re half-seas over.”

“If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,”

“Yeah, what about it?”

Daichi shook himself and started walking again, faster now. “That’s what that Koushi Sugawara said to me that night,” he said, half to himself.

Kuroo jogged a few steps to keep up with him. “That was three weeks ago. You still hung up about that?”

“Well, I just...can’t get him out of my head.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Well, yeah. He’s the first person that hasn’t fallen at your feet since your first big picture. You’re just not used to being hated, are you, Daichi.”

Daichi frowned. “I guess he's just on my conscience,” he mumbled. “I feel bad about saying that stuff, I was being a dolled-up bluenose—”

“Hey, now. It’s not your fault he lost his job as a chorus boy. That was his decision to toss a cake into Michimiya’s kisser, and Michimiya’s decision to get all fussy about it.”

Daichi’s frown deepened and he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to find him.”

“You’ve been trying to, haven’t you? You’re just short of sending out bloodhounds and a posse.”

Daichi shrugged.

“C’mon, Dai, snap out of it. You can’t let something like this get you down. Why, you’re Daichi Sawamura!” Kuroo gave him a hard slap on the shoulder.

Daichi scoffed. “And what about it?”

“Daichi Sawamura’s an actor, isn’t he? And what’s the first thing an actor learns?” Kuroo paused dramatically. “The show must go on! Come rain, come shine, come snow, come sleet! The show must go on! So _ridi,_ Pagliacci, _ridi!_ ”

“Pagliacci, huh?”

“You bet!” Kuroo jabbed at Daichi’s chest. “You know what my dad taught me, when I was a lad?”

“No,” Daichi deadpanned.

Kuroo sighed and patted Daichi’s shoulder, then looked around. Spotting an upright piano, he sat down at the bench. “See, Daichi, the world is so full of a number of things. Surely, we should all be happy as—but are we? No.” Kuroo’s hands slammed down on the piano, in a sharp dissonant chord. “Definitely no.” Another chord. “Positively no.” Another. “Decidedly no. Uh-uh.” He shook his finger at Daichi, who stood a few paces away, amused.

“What’s your point, Kuroo?”

Kuroo clicked his tongue and leapt onto the bench. “Daichi, in the words of Samuel J. Snodgrass—” he hauled himself onto the cover of the piano. “—as he was about to lead to the guillotine—” Kuroo jumped up and backflipped off the piano, landing on his feet with a bounce, spreading his arms wide. “—make ‘em laugh.”

Daichi snorted.

Kuroo frowned. “I’m serious!” he protested. “When in doubt, make ‘em laugh. Laughter is the best medicine, ain’t it?” He clapped a hand down on Daichi’s shoulder. “You’ve got some shit going on, but keep your chin up, alright?”

Daichi felt himself grin. “Alright.”

“Good.” Kuroo patted Daichi’s back. “Let’s get going.”

* * *

_A few weeks later..._

Daichi stared at his reflection in a mirror with rising dread.

A stiff, powdered white wig was on his head, and a silver 18th-century suit tailored tightly to his body. He frowned.

Despite being an actor, he dreaded filming. Being thrown into a stiff costume and plastering another mask on to fit whatever role he’d be given that day.

Kuroo’s main source of comedy nowadays was to make fun of the films that Hollywood was producing nowadays—poking fun at Daichi’s roles, the cheap storyline, the dramatic acting. And yet, Daichi agreed with him. Ever since he’d been paired with Michimiya, his job was an endless cycle of role after role, mask after mask.

He couldn’t help but feel that Koushi Sugawara was right.

He exhaled. It had been several weeks since he’d last seen the man at Ukai’s party, and yet his mind still seemed to be crammed with thoughts of him. All he could think about was how he’d offended him, and how he had driven off into the night. Despite all of Kuroo’s efforts, he couldn’t get him off his mind.

“Ready, Dai?”

Daichi sighed and opened the door of his dressing room. “All set, Yaku,” he said wearily.

Yaku grinned and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Well, here we go again. I think we’ve got another smash on our hands.”

“Hope so.”

Yaku didn’t seem to notice Daichi’s drained expression, his eyes scanning the studio. “You’re darn tootin’ we have. Where’s Yui?”

“Here, Mr. Yaku,” some called, and there was Michimiya, making her way out of another dressing room. She was dressed in a pale pink, bouffant skirt and bodice, covered in bits of delicate lace and fabric flowers. On her head was a towering wig of hair. She certainly was beautiful—breathtaking, even.

Michimiya frowned as she approached Daichi and Yaku. “What dope’ll wear something like this?” She complained, her voice as sharp and grating as ever.

“Everyone used to wear them, Yui,” a hairdresser explained patiently.

“Well, then everyone was a dope. Gee, this wig weighs a ton,” she groaned, and Daichi couldn’t help but chuckle. His own wig wasn’t exactly light either, and Michimiya’s was easily five times heavier.

Yaku clapped his hands together. “Yui, our lovely leading lady. You two ready? Let’s get to the set.”

Daichi nodded, and he and Michimiya walked together to the set, a French garden decorated with marble and foliage. Michimiya sat down on a nearby bench.

“I looked for you the other night at Wally Ray’s. Where were you?” she asked, her voice high and piercing.

“I’ve been busy,” Daichi said coolly.

“Yeah, busy lookin’ for that boy from Ukai’s party,” Michimiya sniffed.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve been worried about him.” Daichi fiddled with his cuffs. _Why, oh why do these costumes need to be so gosh darn uncomfortable?_

“Well, maybe you should’ve been a little bit more worried about me instead of running after him that night. After all, I’m the one who got the whipped cream in a kisser.”

Daichi refrained from rolling his eyes. “Maybe, but you didn’t lose your job, and he did.”

Michimiya let out a shrill giggle. “You darned tootin’ he lost his job. I arranged it, after all.”

Daichi’s head whipped around to stare at her. “You _what?_ ”

“I got that boy fired. They weren’t gonna, so I called ‘em up and told them they’d better,” Michimiya hummed, nonchalant.

Daichi’s mouth opened. “You—”

“Daichi!” Yaku was running up to him. “Now, remember. You’re madly in love with her, alright?”

Daichi snapped his jaw shut. Yaku continued, oblivious to his seething anger. “You’ve got to overcome her shyness and timidity. Alright, get up there.”

Daichi swiveled around and headed off the set, his blood boiling. Behind the camera, Kuroo shot him a look from behind a piano. “Kuroo, mood music!” Yaku shouted at him. “Roll ‘em!”

In front of the camera, a workman snapped a slate, and Michimiya’s posture adjusted to something pensive and sad. 

“Okay, Daichi, you’re on,” a workman whispered to him. Daichi gritted his teeth, then entered the set.

“You see Yui! Run to her!” Yaku shouted to Daichi.

Daichi schooled his expression into one of ecstasy, then rushed to Michimiya’s side. He put his hands over her eyes, her shoulders lifting with surprise, and he withdrew his hands. She turned to look at him, her expression alight with happiness. 

“Michimiya,” he muttered to her, careful to keep his lips from moving. “You got that poor man fired. And for what?”

Michimiya’s face was smiling, but her gaze was sharp. “He should’ve stayed professional on the clock, after all. What if it was you and not me who got a cake in the face?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten him fired. I provoked him, after all.” Daichi knelt beside her on the bench, forcing his expression into something lustful and loving, attempting to quell his seething anger.

“Looks great, keep going,” Yaku called. “Yui, you’re afraid for him, you’re madly in love with him, but he’s not allowed to be here.”

Michimiya’s eyes turned to an icy glare. “You liked him. I could tell.” She tapped him lightly on the shoulders with a fan.

Daichi took her hand and kissed it. “And what about it?”

“It’s _wrong,_ Daichi, a boy can’t like a boy,” Michimiya simpered.

“Oh, believe me,” Daichi rose to his feet. “I don’t like him half as much as I hate you.”

“Now, kiss her, Daichi!” Yaku ordered.

Daichi took Michimiya’s face and kissed her passionately. His eyes shut, and a feeling of repulsion overtook him as he drew her body closer.

Yaku clapped his hands. “Good, now cut!”

Daichi broke off the kiss, and turned away, disgusted. Michimiya smiled and stood from the bench. “Oh, Daichi, you couldn’t kiss me like that and mean it even a teensy-weeny bit?”

Daichi scoffed. “Meet the greatest actor in the world,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “I’d rather kiss a tarantula!”

Michimiya’s smile turned sickly-sweet. “Ah, Daichi, you don’t mean that.”

“I don’t? Kuroo,” he turned to look at his friend. “Bring me a tarantula. Now, listen, Michimiya, I know there’s some things that the news says about us, but—”

“Daichi, Yui, let’s get another take,” Yaku called.

“Hold it, Yaku,” someone shouted.

The crew’s head snapped to the door as Keishin Ukai burst onto the sit, storming down to the director. His expression looked almost murderous, and Daichi had a sudden urge to get out of his way, as if Ukai was an angry bull. _Yikes._ He glanced at Kuroo, who was still sitting at the piano, as he had promptly ignored Daichi’s request for a spider.

Ukai reached Yaku in a matter of seconds, the normally noisy set silent. “Hey, Ukai,” Yaku said, surprised. “We’re really rolling here—”

“Yeah, well, you can stop rolling,” Ukai said grimly.

Yaku stared at him. “What?”

“Daichi, Yui, come here,” Ukai commanded.

Yaku spun on his heel. “Alright, everybody, save it!” He ordered.

“Save it?” Ukai gave a pained scoff. “Tell everyone to head home! We’re shutting down for a few weeks.”

“What?”

“Well?” Ukai asked Yaku. “Tell ‘em!”

Yaku huffed. “What is this, Ukai?”

“Yeah, what’s the matter, Ukai?” Daichi asked.

Ukai huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “ _The Jazz Singer,_ that’s the matter! The public is screaming for more!”

Kuroo grinned, jumping to the piano and bursting into song. “Oh, my darling little mammy, down in Alabamy! I’m your little—”

Ukai shot him a glare. “This is not a joke, Kuroo!” he seethed. “It’s a sensation! The public wants more of it!”

“More what?” Michimiya asked.

Ukai threw his hands into the air. “Talking pictures! Pictures with sound!”

Daichi scoffed. “You can’t be serious. That stuff was complete applesauce.”

“No one’s gonna sit in a theater without being able to read off the screen,” Yaku agreed.

“I’m serious.” Ukai ran his hands through his hair, his blond spikes sticking straight up. “We should’ve done this weeks ago. I told everyone, we gotta get on this, but no one believed me! Yaku—” he turned to the director. “We’re gonna put our best feet forward, alright? Let’s make _The Dueling Cavalier_ into a talking picture.”

“Turn it into a talking picture?” Yaku repeated, shaking his head. “Ukai, you’ve gone goofy, you can’t be serious right now—”

“I am serious! Otherwise this studio’s in the dumps.”

Kuroo joined Daichi’s side. “Well, shit. I’m out of a job, then.” He clapped Daichi on the arm, a large, strained grin on his face. “At least I can start suffering and write that symphony, eh?”

Daichi opened his mouth, but Ukai beat him to the punch. “You’re not out of a job, son. We’re putting you as head of the new music department.”

Kuroo’s jaw dropped, as Daichi’s face split into a grin. “See? You’ve got nothing to worry ‘bout.” He beamed happily, pounding Kuroo on the back. 

“Jesus,” Kuroo breathed. “I gotta tell Kenma.”

Daichi let out a laugh. “Go and tell him, then!” He said, shoving him toward the door. Kuroo nodded, looking dumbstruck, then broke into a sprint out of the set.

“Hand on, Ukai, I think you should think about this for a moment—” Yaku said, bewildered.

“Every studio is jumping on the bandwagon, Yaku. Every theater in the country is putting in sound equipment! We can’t be left in the dust here, theaters aren’t gonna play the old movies anymore. We need to act quickly—”

“But we don’t know anything about this gadget!” Yaku protested.

“What do you need to know?” Ukai asked. “It’s a picture. You just add _talking_ to it.”

Daichi’s brow furrowed. “You think it’ll be alright, then?”

“Daichi, it’ll be a sensation.” Ukai gestured with a big sweep of his arm in midair, imitating a headline. “Sawamura and Michimiya: They Talk.”

Michimiya’s sharp tone cut through the room like a knife.

“Well of course we _talk,”_ she said, her voice shrill. “Don’t everybody?”

The three turned to stare at her.

And in that moment, Daichi only had one thought.

_Well, shit._

* * *

_Several weeks later..._

**REVOLUTION IN HOLLYWOOD**

**Talking pictures are the newest hit sensation in the entertainment business. Studios all over Hollywood are scrambling for sound equipment to convert to “talkies”, to the surprise of many. Musical pictures have been a smash biz all over the country, everyone begging to see the newest hit, with studios scrambling to deliver.**

**The question that remains, however, is what will this do to the entertainment industry? Surely, this will be a change to last a lifetime.**

Kuroo was standing near Kenma, who was quietly observing the set as a few dozen women danced around a young man, singing in a clear voice while beaming charismatically at the camera. 

After several weeks after Ukai’s decision, the studio had officially converted to sound, all equipment installed, vocal coaches and technicians hired, and several pictures in line for production. Kuroo was now the official head of the music department, which came with a rather nice raise, without a complaint from him.

The production number was to somewhat test the waters of pictures with sound—a short advertisement of sorts, as Kenma had told him. Kuroo was meant to be overseeing the production.

He narrowed his eyes at the singer, a man in a pale lavender blazer and a gauzy scarf tied around his neck. He had silver-gray hair and a large, flashy smile, with pale skin, and he seemed rather...familiar.

“Hey, Kenma,” Kuroo whispered quietly in Kenma’s ear. “Who’s the guy?”

Kenma glanced at him, a quick flash of irritation in his eyes before it disappeared, as quick as it came. “Why?”

“He looks familiar,” Kuroo mused before glancing down at Kenma. He was staring rather pointedly at the dancers with slightly pursed lips, and Kuroo chuckled quietly, wrapping his arms around the young director’s shoulders. “What’s with the face, Kitten? Jealous?”

Kenma gave him another look, one of irritation rather than jealousy. “Kuro,” he hissed quietly. “Ukai’s right over there.”

Kuroo glanced to the side, the studio owner was staring at the dancers skeptically, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. “And what about it, Kitten?”

“He’s our boss, Kuro. He could get us both fired.”

Kuroo smirked, resting his chin on Kenma’s head. “So what?”

“So you shouldn’t be draping yourself all over my shoulders. What if he doesn’t like—”

“Shh, it’s fine,” Kuroo reassured quietly. “Ukai doesn’t care, as long as we do our jobs.”

“ _Kuro,”_ Kenma said under his breath, but Ukai had glanced over, and made his way over to the two, carefully stepping over a few wires that were taped to the studio floor.

“Hey, Kozume,” Ukai was saying. “Who’s the singer over there? He looks familiar.”

Kenma sat up in the chair, shaking Kuroo’s arms off of his shoulders. “That’s Koushi Sugawara. I’ve been featuring him in some nightclub shows.”

_Sugawara…_

Kuroo’s eyes widened. Where had he heard that before?

Ukai hummed in recognition. “That’s probably where I’ve seen him. He’d be good as Oikawa’s younger brother…”

Kenma nodded in agreement. “I’ll call him over after filming is done.”

 _Koushi Sugawara…oh!_ Kuroo snapped his fingers. Of course. This Sugawara had been Daichi’s obsession for the past few weeks. “I’ll be back, Kitten,” he murmured into Kenma’s ear.

Kenma glanced at him in surprise, but Kuroo had already dashed off. He sprinted off the set and rounded the corner, glancing around for a glimpse of his friend. The studio was always crowded, but in the late afternoon, it was bustling with activity, actors and stagehands and directors in a state of frenzy as filming was in full swing.

After a few minutes of desperate searching, he cursed, then raised his voice to a shout. “Hey, Sawamura! Where are you?” He yelled, glancing all over the crowded sets. “Daichi!”

“Stop making such a racket, Kuroo!” Someone scolded him.

He waved them off, not caring. “Daichi!” He shouted again, picking up the pace a bit as he searched. “Sawamura, where the hell are you?”

“Jesus, Kuroo, what happened?”

Daichi was stepping out of a dressing room, probably just wrapping up the filming. He had an irritated expression on—one that Kuroo usually referred to as the ‘tired dad’ face. “Did something happen? Some article came out?”

“No, there’s no article, you sap, I was—”

Daichi sighed, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Kuroo, look, I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta get going—”

“I found Koushi Sugawara! He’s in one of Kenma’s pictures!”

And for the first time in a very long time, Daichi’s face lit up. It was as if he’d just gotten ten years younger, almost—the worried lines smoothing over and his face breaking into a smile—and he immediately demanded, “Where? Which set?”

“C’mon, you idiot, go and talk with him!” Kuroo snatched up Daichi’s wrist and started dragging him to the set. “Apologize to him! You’ve been moping for weeks!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Daichi quickened his pace. “How’d you find him? What’s he hired for?”

“Some sort of singing role—there!” Kuroo yanked him forward, and the two jogged into the set, slowing to a walk as they approached. Daichi hesitated, and he paused, wavering.

Kur00 sighed. “Hey. You’re not some bluenose who doesn’t want to apologize, right?”

Daichi glanced at him. After a moment, he shook his head.

“That’s right. You’re Daichi Sawamura. You can do this. Just go up and apologize.”

Daichi exhaled, but he started walking again.

Filming seemed to have wrapped up, and the set was being slowly cleaned up. Kenma had stood up from his chair, and was talking to Sugawara and Ukai. Kuroo strained to overhear.

“—Ukai here has been thinking about casting you as Oikawa’s younger brother in the newest picture. We’ll introduce the two of you later.”

Sugawara’s face was flushed, and he had a giddy smile on his face. “That’s wonderful. Thank you, sir.”

Daichi stepped up to the three of them, smiling nervously. “Koushi Sugawara?”

Suga glanced at him. And in an instant, his smile dropped, and he leveled a glare at Daichi. “Well,” he said shortly. “It was a nice offer. Thank you.”

Ukai let out a nervous laugh, glancing between the two of them. “Now, wait a minute—”

Suga’s glare jumped to a sickly-sweet smile in a millisecond. Kuroo almost laughed out loud at how quickly his expression kept on changing, but he forced himself to keep a straight face. “Now, Mr. Ukai,” Suga said, with a honeyed sarcasm. “Before Mr. Sawamura here refreshes your memory, you might as well know. I”m in the one who hit Miss Michimiya with a cake three weeks ago at your party.”

Kuroo did laugh out loud now, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth as both Kenma and Daichi shot him a glare. Suga glanced at him for a moment before continuing. “Believe me when I say that it was meant for Mr. Sawamura.” He turned to Kenma. “Sorry, Kenma, should’ve let you know earlier.”

Kenma started to wave him off, but Daichi interrupted him. “Hang on, Mr. Sugawara. What’s this about?”

Ukai took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. “We were planning on casting Mr. Sugawara here in Oikawa’s newest picture, but if you or Michimiya have a problem with it—”

Daichi’s face split into a grin. “No, not at all, I think that’d be great!”

Kuroo scoffed. “Of course Daichi would think so, Ukai, he’s been looking for Sugawara here for weeks.”

Ukai gave him a look, but turned to Daichi. “Would Michimiya be alright with it, Daichi? I know—”

Daichi huffed. “Look, Yui can get him fired from a chorus company, but you’re the head of the biggest studio in Hollywood. Michimiya can’t tell you what to do.”

Ukai sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Alright, you’re hired, Sugawara. Just don’t let Michimiya know, alright? That applies to all of you.”

Sugawara beamed again. “Thank you, Mr. Ukai.”

Kuroo grinned, and he leaned on Kenma’s shoulder. “Gee, I’m glad you showed up, Mr. Sugawara,” he said. “We’ve been looking inside every cake in town.”

* * *

Walking next to Daichi Sawamura, possibly the most famous star in Hollywood, was not exactly how Sugawara Koushi planned to spend a Wednesday afternoon.

He wasn’t exactly pleased about it, either. He hadn’t forgotten how rude Daichi was just a few weeks ago. Suga pursed his lips. He hated how famous people acted sometimes—as if they ruled the world, always with a superior smirk and an irritating attitude.

 _And yet,_ Suga thought to himself, _his face is anything but a smirk right now._

In fact, Daichi was beaming. His entire face was lit up in delight, and even a few obvious attempts to calm his expression were instantly quelled. And it seemed to be real, not like the obviously fake smiles that were so often plastered on his face.

Even so, Suga couldn’t help but feel a little bit giddy. For one thing, he’d be working in an actual picture, alongside some of the most famous actors of the studio. And, he was currently having a walk next to one of his favorite actors of all time.

Even he couldn’t hide his _slight_ obsession with Daichi. He’d seen most of the man’s pictures, although he’d _never_ admit it to his face.

He hated how good Daichi looked on such a good day. Why couldn’t he just hate the man like a normal person?

 _He can’t know you’re an actual fan of his,_ Suga scolded himself. _He’s never let you hear the end of it._

The two were strolling in the warm afternoon sunshine of the Monumental Pictures grounds, past crowded and empty sets and bustling actors and stagehands. Suga tilted his head at Daichi.

“Is it alright for the two of us to be seen together?” He asked, trying to keep his tone even.

Daichi glanced at him, his eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the lofty star with the humble player, walking together. Don’t you usually tear a pheasant with Ms. Michimiya?” Suga could hardly keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

Daichi let out a laugh, a hearty full one that seemed to fill the air. Suga glanced at him in surprise. _Yet another way he’s acting differently. His laugh usually sounds so strained._

“Now look, Mr. Sugawara,” Daichi said, still smiling widely. “All that stuff they write about Michimiya and me is pure applesauce, I swear.”

Suga arched an eyebrow at him. “Is it now? Because from what I’ve read in the columns, you two are halfway to the altar.”

“The columns? So you read those articles about me, then?”

Daichi’s smile had sharpened into something more of a smirk now. Suga swore inwardly. _Damn._ His inner fanboy was showing.

“Well,” Suga said, feeling his cheeks burn. “You and Ms. Michimiya do have a sort of...intimacy in all of your pictures, so any normal person could assume—”

“Did you say _all_ my pictures?” 

_Shit. Another slip._

Daichi was grinning even wider now. A normal person would think he’d just won the lottery, rather than catching Suga’s slip of tongue.

Suga attempted to compose himself, straightening up slightly “Well, now that I think of it,” he said. “I’ve seen...maybe eight or nine of them.”

“Eight or nine,” Daichi repeated. “You know, I seem to recall someone saying something along the lines of...‘If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.’”

Suga felt himself flush and he let his gaze drop to the ground. “I did say some rather rude things that night, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I deserved them. I was rather impolite, and I apologize.”

Suga glanced up at Daichi. His face had softened into something somber, and undoubtedly sincere.

“I must admit, though, I was pretty shaken up afterward. Kuroo says I’ve been acting weird.”

“Kuroo?”

“Ah, my friend, he’s the head of the music department...he was on the set today, probably hanging himself all over Kenma.”

Suga frowned, a vague memory of a tall, lanky man with tangled black hair. “Oh. Of course.”

“I haven’t been thinking of much else, besides...you, I guess.” Daichi rubbed the back of his neck, his face red.

Suga’s frown deepened. “And why’s that?”

“Mr. Sugawara, I—”

“Suga’s fine.”

“Ah, Suga. You see, Suga, I guess...seeing you now, I just—” Daichi’s blush deepened, and fumbled with his hands. “Well...Suga, I’m trying to say something, but...I’m such a ham, I can’t seem to do it without the proper setting.” 

Suga chuckled. _Ah, he’s so adorable when he’s flustered._ He shook himself. _Stay focused, Koushi._ “The proper setting?”

“Well…here.” Daichi took his hand.

Suga could’ve sworn that his heart jumped out of his throat. Daichi didn’t seem to notice, however and led him over to a large, stage door. He pulled a lever, and it slowly creaked open.

A bit of soft afternoon light leaked into the dark space, and Suga felt his curiosity spiking, and he glanced at Daichi.

Daichi noticed his gaze, and he gave him a small smile. He led him through the doorway, and it closed behind them, leaving them in the dimly lit stage room. 

Suga glanced around. A few props and equipment were left abandoned, scattered haphazardly around the large empty room. “This is just an empty set, Daichi,” he said, looking at a rack filled with a few costumes on hangers.

Daichi smiled. “At first glance, yeah. But here.” He let go of Suga’s hand, strolling over to a large light switchboard. “This is partially why I love acting.”

He started pulling levers, each one flooding the set with soft lighting. As Suga watched him, the stage filled with a glow of evening lights, with soft blues and purples and pinks. Daichi looked up at him with a smile. “A beautiful sunset,” he said. “And here.”

He pulled another lever, and soft, hazy mist started filling the set. “A distant mountain mist, and here.” He pulled a few others, each spilling a few more beams of light over the scene. “A bit of stardust and moonlight.”

Suga watched him, a small smile growing on his lips. Daichi walked over to him, taking his hand again and leading him to a ladder. Suga dutifully followed him, climbing up a few steps until he stood a few feet over Daichi.

Daichi beamed at him.

“A...prince, standing in a palace balcony, flooded in moonlight,” he said, stepping away to turn on a large fan a few paces away. A soft breeze swept over Suga’s face, and he leaned forward to look at Daichi’s face.

Daichi looked up at him, stepping away from the fan with a faint smile on his face. “A soft summer breeze,” he said quietly. “You sure look lovely in the moonlight, Koushi Sugawara.”

Suga’s face felt warm, but he managed to speak. “Now that you have the proper setting,” he said softly. “Can you say it?”

Daichi smiled, leaning against the ladder. “I’ll try.”

Suga leaned down to look at him. Daichi sighed, looking up at him. “Suga, you’ve been in my thoughts since the first day I saw you. You’re enrapturing.”

“Am I really?” Suga asked.

Daichi smiled, a gentle one that spread over his face. “Really. And I’d like...I’d like to know you better, if that’s alright.”

“Even in the proper setting, you’re quite easily flustered.” 

“You fluster me,” Daichi replied. “But if it’s quite alright, I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight.”

“I’m guessing you’re not quite used to dating men.”

“A celebrity doesn’t get around to much dating, contrary to popular belief.”

“Hm.” Suga reached down, letting the tips of his fingers trail over Daichi’s face. He flushed, but reached up to take Suga’s hand.

“Is that a yes?” He asked.

Suga hummed. “Yes. Dinner sounds lovely.”

Daichi beamed. “But before that.” He released Suga’s hand, stepping backwards a few feet. He sank elegantly into a low bow. “May I have this dance, Koushi Sugawara?”

Suga giggled. “There’s no music.”

“Mm, but we’re actors, aren’t we? And we’re all alone here in this beautiful garden at twilight. There’s no one to see us.” Daichi spread his arms wide, swaying a little.

“Alright,” Suga relented, but he was smiling. “One dance.”

Daichi beamed, and he walked forward, extending an arm. “Did I say how lovely you look tonight, Koushi Sugawara?”

“You’re looking quite lovely yourself, Daichi Sawamura.” Suga took his hand as he stepped off the ladder. 

Daichi pulled him close, laying a gentle hand on his waist. “Daichi’s quite fine,” he said, spinning Suga around.

Suga giggled. “Then call me Koushi.”

“Koushi,” Daichi breathed. “Then you look lovely tonight, Koushi.”

And they danced in the soft light of twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more 20s slang:  
> \- Half-seas over: Wasted  
> \- Dolled up: Dressed up  
> \- Bluenose: Killjoy  
> \- Kisser: Mouth  
> \- Sap - Idiot (simpleton)  
> \- Player - person with many lovers (in this context Suga is sarcastically contrasting himself with Daichi.  
> \- Tear a pheasant - Share a meal, but in this context, Suga’s being sarcastic (again) and making fun of Daichi and Michimiya being upper-class  
> \- Applesauce: Nonsense  
> \- Ham: inexpert performer, which is rather ironic, considering he’s an actor.
> 
> Sorry I kinda cut out the make ‘em laugh scene, but honestly, I couldn’t write it to do Donald O’Connor justice. And sorry for the delay in updates! I’m hoping to get the next one posted rather soon, especially since the next part of the movie is one of my favorites.
> 
> As always, beta’d by midnightswordsdance :)


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